Chicken Soup Time (a twelve-line poem of recovery)

There comes a time when life really stinks,

A day when the life force grows green-brown and sinks,

Yes, I am ill and my every breath kinks,

And I cough and I burp and the end of the nose pinks,

So, I gather together under the covers,

The rotten parts of me over which the fly hovers,

And cook them in heat of the dreams of old lovers,

And fantasy dreams, whose richness discovers…

The stories that make the sum of my life,

And memories of people who’ve hurt me with strife,

And good things and great things and details all mixed,

And stew while I’m sleeping til things are all fixed.

Blue birdsxxx

2 Comments

Filed under humor, illness, Paffooney, poem

2 responses to “Chicken Soup Time (a twelve-line poem of recovery)

  1. Hope you are feeling better, in spite of your uphill struggles. It is not a blue bird, but put on the Allman Brothers and listen to harmonizing guitars as Dickie Betts sings “your my blue sky, your my sunny day…” Spirits will be lifted. Take care, bro.

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